Remind me where I went wrong.
Point to the spectre in my eye.
Review´s scalding give it to me with tongs.
Like it was fresh out of the frypan.
Rate those rehashed mindless popsongs.
And in the air with your uncaring hands.
You, my rattan basket-
freshly woven not rhyming long.
Mainstream tingle pretender,
most active pharisees fan.
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